


Winter Whumperland 2020

by Poet_Anderson



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Restraints, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poet_Anderson/pseuds/Poet_Anderson
Summary: 12 drabbles for the prompts of 2020's 12 days of winter whumperland. based on the lovely art of @dogscars on tumblr.December 12th: used as decoration.December 13th: sleep deprivation/exhaustion.December 14th: escape in the snow.December 15th: given as a gift.December 16th: animal attack.December 17th: burns.December 18th: nightmares.December 19th: obsessive whumper.December 20th: running out of time.December 23th: found family comfort.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Lucifer Magne, Alastor/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 68





	1. Deck the Halls

Ah, christmas. Truly the most wonderful time of the year. Incidentally, also the time of year with most relative-on-relative homicides.  
Vox sits back in his chair at the head of the dining table. He takes a sip of red wine and lets out a soft moan of pleasure at the taste. 1974 Cabernet Sauvignon, imported from earth. 

He impales a piece of meat on his fork and runs it through the cranberry sauce. The taste is rich and full, the sour hint of the cranberry sauce only adding to the complexity. There’s nothing quite like meat from an animal you hunted yourself.

Michael Bublé playing through the speakers, the crackle of the fireplace reverberating through the dining room.

The sound of plastic ties digging into flesh, the incessant, pathetic, desperate static.

The radio demon hangs suspended from the ceiling, buck naked. Cords of christmas lights tight around his body. Vox initially wanted to go with remote-controlled LEDs, so he could change the color to whatever he fancied in the moment. But some good old fashioned light bulbs work wonders as well. He can see the burn wounds where they're pressed tightly against Alastor’s body. Between his legs, for example. On his tongue, where a lightbulb is jammed in his mouth like a searing ball gag. The deer’s eyes are glossy from delirium.

Vox grins. “Don’t be surprised, Alastor. We all knew this was coming. You ran out of luck long ago.”

Vox laughs when the tears fall. Heaven, Hell - all a matter of perspective.

“Chin up, ally-boy! We’re going to have ourselves a holly jolly time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Bublé's Holly Jolly Christmas while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dkq3LD-4pmM


	2. Up on the Housetop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for major implied non con. also go read Festering by Raengst

The expensive satin covers, goose down pillows and soft mattress are Al’s enemies. They try to pull him down towards the depth of ignorant sleep, to the abyss of oblivion, the darkness of vulnerability.

He’s lying on his side on the bed with Valentino’s hands crawling over his naked body. 

_Don’t fall asleep_ , he reminds himself. _Don’t fall asleep._

He doesn’t want to suffer through what happens to his body when he falls asleep.   
The way he’d wake up dirty, cum stains on his back. Used. Disgusting. No more than a sex toy.

Valentino hums. “Can’t fall asleep, baby deer? I can help you with that.”

Al shakes his head. “‘m fine,” he croaks. His throat is dry, he aches for water. Though he cannot get up, because Val will see that as an invitation.

The hands - so many, like cockroaches crawling over his body - tighten their grip. “You sure, baby?”

Al doesn’t answer and Val doesn’t wait for a response. Val rolls him onto his back and moves himself between his spread legs. Al knows the drill and doesn’t protest. Valentino always gets his way, the only difference Al can make is the beginning. His body moves with the thrusts. Val’s moans sound muffled, like they’re from the other room. 

His eyes are burning. From exhaustion? From grief? He doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. He’s not here, really. He’s somewhere far away.  
At least he’s not asleep. At least Val can’t take that away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phyllis Robins - The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCzZZROkIRE  
> seems appropriate, no? :)   
> thanks for reading!


	3. Baby It's Cold Outside

His lungs are searing from exhaustion and his throat is burning from the cold. Al has been running since the exterminators broke down his door. 

The spear hit him in the side. He should’ve died. Somehow, he didn’t. Instead he managed to get away and break towards the forest.  
He knows Husk didn’t make it, his body was a gory mess on the floor. Niffty didn’t either, though he hasn’t seen her body.  
He doesn’t want to think about it.

The forest is empty and quiet; the thick layer of snow muffles any sound.  
Al stumbles over a tree root and falls face-first onto the ground. He yelps in pain and fear. The snow around him colors red from blood. He wonders how much blood he’s lost so far.

He can’t get up. The adrenaline that carried him away from the cabin has been depleted.   
It’s quiet. No one’s after him. With difficulty, Alastor drags himself to the nearest tree and sits up, leaning against the bark. 

He fingers the wound. He sees white from the agonizing pain, as if he’s being stabbed all over again.   
He digs his claws in deeper, reveling and grueling from this self inflicted torture.

Penitence. Penitence for everything. Husk and Niffty’s visages appear to his mind’s eye.   
_go away,_ he yells. _don’t remind me,_ he pleads. 

It’s still quiet. He didn’t make any noise.

It’s not that cold anymore, truly. He knows it’s cold from how his breath forms tiny clouds, from how he can’t feel his feet and claws anymore.   
The wound doesn’t hurt anymore either, though Al is too tired to move his claw to poke at it.

He just needs to close his eyes for a moment, gain his strength back. That’s all he needs: to rest. Then everything will be alright. His eyelids fall shut.  
Just...some sleep.

The scavengers don’t find his body, for it’s too deep in the forest for them to find. No one will find his corpse. None will see how the radio demon looks at peace in his last moment, none will see Alastor without his smiling mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't actually listening to any christmas music so uuuuuh have this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GC_m_5Ow7ec  
> it's the Introit and Kyrie from Mozart's Requiem. Not very christmasy i guess, but imo it fits the tone.   
> thanks for reading!


	4. All I Want For Christmas Is You

Lucifer opens the letter and reads it thoroughly, multiple times.

_Your royal majesty,_

_As a symbol of our amiability and gesture of goodwill, we give you this christmas gift. May it serve you well._

_~~Love~~  
Regards,  
Vox and Valentino_

He folds the letter up.  
The obvious way in which they, most likely Vox, attempted to sound formal is embarrassing. Cringeworthy, as the kids would say. Even so, the gift is intriguing.

The Radio Demon is lying on the devil’s floor, tied up in a pretty pink bow.

Lucifer walks around his desk to the sinner. He'd cast a silencing spell upon him the moment he arrived - Ally can be so loud and distracting. 

Lucifer bows over him, assessing his body. The pale flesh is marred with scars and his bones are visibly protruding. He runs a hand through his soft red hair, pleased at how Al shivers when his hands travel down his neck all the way down to his tailbone, following the curves of his spine.

“Christmas came early for us, huh?” Al merely scowls. Lucifer can smell his fear. Delicious.  
He gives his rear a squeeze and then sits back at the desk and dials his wife.

“Hey, sugarplum-- yes I know you’re busy -- yes I know what we planned tonight, but something unexpected happened today.”  
Lucifer nods and hums as he listens to his wife. The snake on his head hisses at the way Alastor shifts uneasily within his bounds. He’s excited as well, it seems.  
“I received a very special gift, and it seems like one we’d both enjoy.” He makes eye contact with Alastor, who wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Vox and Val made the right call. It must have been Velvet’s idea, those buffoons wouldn’t have come up with this themselves. 

Lucifer hums again. He’ll tell the staff to prepare and maintain the bedroom in the basement for at least a week. A fortnight even, should Alastor be as spicy as he seems to be.

It seems those christmas themed toys have a use after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eartha Kitt's Santa Baby is the only one that has an appropriate level of horniness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk_GmhD053E


	5. Got Run Over By A Reindeer

The concrete cell is empty save for one hunched figure in the corner. Al licks his dry lips. It’s been days since he had anything to drink. Weeks since he’d had anything to eat. 

The one thing he’s never deprived of is pain.

Just like always, Vox enters the room with a wicked grin plastered on his face. He’s pulling a creature with him on a rope. 

Al’s exhausted body stiffens. His eyes widen and with whatever strength it has left his heart begins beating rapidly. 

A huge beast is growling and hissing next to Vox’s side. A canine with a skeletal body looks at Al with excitement. Drool drips from its mouth and the only reason it’s not already eating his body is Vox’s hand pulling at its collar. 

Al knows with certain dread that Vox will let it go. He does. 

The dog rushes forward and it’s teeth snap around Al’s leg. A sickening crack, followed by the wet sound of flesh pulling apart. Vox’s laughter rings through the room. Alastor retches. 

* * *

He stopped screaming long ago. Not because he had a reason to stop, but because he couldn’t anymore. His throat torn apart to a gory mess, unable to produce noise. 

He can hear the dog growling and panting in his neck. He feels the hot mix of drool and blood drip down into his hair. Vox hasn't given him the mercy of being unconscious. The dog has been eating at him for hours, maybe days.

  


It won’t stop, it won’t stop until there’s no blood to lick up anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean it's not december 16th?? *quickly throws calendar into the fire*


	6. Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing is hard, sorry for the delays everyone.  
> also i know this is meant to be whump but @dogscars did such amazing and entrancing work for the prompt of the 17th, it made me write something a little more comforty and contemplative (hopefully).  
> 

Heavenly fire; bright, pure, holy. All-consuming and hotter than hellfire.

Alastor’s back is an ugly canvas of scar tissue. It’s uneven and ragged, stretched taut with cracks from tension like the way ice forms a thin layer over creeks in February. Pulsating with heat. The fire still contained.

Alastor groans and resists the urge to stretch - it’ll only exacerbate his pain. The warm bath he took was pleasant in the moment, but now he feels his skin protest. He dabs at it with a towel, careful not to irritate the already sensitive skin. He hisses in pain when he fails.

He looks up when he hears someone knocking on the door. Husk enters, not bothering to wait for permission.

Husk avoids looking at Al, flustered.

He's holding something behind his back. “I, uh, got you something. For Christmas.”

Al’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh?”

He drops the towel to the floor and extends a hand towards his companion, grimacing when the burned flesh around his upper arms tears from the tense motion. Husk takes a few steps closer and hands him his present.

It’s a cup about the size of Al’s palm. He screws open the top and a cool mint scent greets him. Lotion, he realizes.

“It’s for your back,” Husk explains.

“Oh,” Alastor says again.

* * *

Al lies down on his stomach on the bed, while Husk stays standing.

He leans over him and begins massaging his back. Starting at his lower back with pressured, rhythmic movements that work in the lotion into Al’s dry scars. A moan of pleasure escapes him. The cool lotion softens his skin, relaxes his tense muscles.

They don’t talk, but the mood is familiar and relaxed. Eventually Husk arrives Al’s neck, his body leaning over Al’s completely. Al can feel his breath on his skin.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some lo-fi christmas: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRSfFmZan24


	7. Sugar Plums Dancing In Their Head

Hands reach out from within his guts, scratching at his skin. He digs in his claws and tears it open, just to put a halt to the sensation.

He feels the maws close around his limbs. Tearing through flesh, snapping his bones. 

His blood is leaking from his flesh, wetting the bed covers and clotting on his skin. 

The bed. 

Al’s eyes snap open and his senses are rushed by reality. 

Val’s arms around him, the blankets draped over their bodies, the muffled sounds of Pentagram City, the smell of smoke and sex.  
His guts are still inside, his scars aren’t torn open.

Al slips out of Val’s hold and quietly walks to the balcony. The cool night air hits his skin and he sighs in relief. It was just a dream, all just a dream. 

Barely better than his current existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the shortest one of all so far. It's inspired by @dogscars' art for the same prompt, which takes place in their Festering verse. go read! its good


	8. Under The Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> busy days for me lately. and this prompt was rough ngl. anyway enjoy. also heads up for some non con in this drabble.

Vox watches. He always does. Following every move, recording it all. By now he has decades worth of material. Even his favorite compilation is hours long. 

Alastor is his favorite pastime. 

And now, finally, his most prized possession is his to do with as he pleases. 

He’s been watching the security cam footage for ages now. Alastor is lying on the ground - he wanted to stand up when thrown into the cell, but the shock collar quickly discouraged that behavior. 

Vox thinks of Al’s reaction when he’ll get his lingerie. He’ll hate it; Vox is hard just thinking about it. 

He’s not patient enough to wait any longer. Vox gets up from his seat in the security room and leaves for the cell he’s keeping Al in.

Al scrambles and tries to get up. He falls to the ground and screams when Vox presses the button on the remote for his collar.   
He’s not stupid; he doesn’t move to stand up again, instead remaining on the floor. Vox can see his ribcage move with his shallow breaths. 

He’d let him keep his clothes, wanting to wait for the perfect moment. 

He yanks Alastor up by his hair and pushes him against the wall. He keeps him there with one hand and trails to crotch with another. He slides his hands down into Al’s underwear - funny, he thought the guy would be wearing those old fashioned undergarments made out of one piece - and feels him up. Immediately, Al becomes hard. Vox hears him moan, and feels how he struggles. 

Pretend as Al might, Vox knows he’s not the only one who’s been itching for them to start. 

All the while, the camera is on. It’s red light blinking reliably, streaming everything to Vox’s channel.


	9. Advent Calendar

Oh, a trouble it is keeping track of time when death isn’t a constant presence looming over you. How difficult it is when days overlap. When you can lose yourself in your hunger for a week. 

Al has been wandering the streets for a while now. A week, or thereabout. He feels it in his gut. He feels it from the way his eyebags are heavy enough to pull the skin down. 

Alastor isn’t one to notice the people around him unless he needs something. The streets are dreadfully empty. Unsettlingly, suspiciously, ominously so. 

Oh, my. 

He stops in his tracks in the main square. He slowly turns around and faces the large clock tower. 

00:00:00 

The deafening sound of the central tower’s bell reverberates through the city. It passes through Al’s bones and settles in his stomach; a vibrating, writhing mass of anxiety.

His eyes race around his surroundings searching for a place to hide. 

The gong throws him off his feet. He runs towards a shabby looking apartment complex.

The humming of the exterminators’ wings joins the bells. Al breaks through the door.

The thin walls don’t muffle the ringing of the bells. Screaming and cursing joins the cacophony, the sinners terrified now that their door is open. 

He lets out a bitter laugh and takes the stairs up two steps at a time.

Time is the greatest enemy when there is death looming over one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to nat king cole for being like 60% of the insp of this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFSPGIHjak8


	10. Chapter 10

Even after more than a year of abandonment, the cabin is still the same. Niffty opens the windows to let some fresh air in, and the light draft that arises sweeps the layers of dust upon furniture up into the air. 

Alastor stands in the doorway, gripping his cane with one hand, and Husk’s hand with another. 

Husk voices Al’s thoughts. “Thought it’d be trashed by now. Guess those wards you put up did their job.” 

“Why don’t we go check up on your room?” Niffty suggests, seeing how lost Al looks. 

Husk gently guides him up the stairs, wrapping an arm around his waist when Alastor can’t manage the steps on his own.

They don’t open the bedroom. Al stands in front of it and doesn’t want to pull the doorknob and walk in. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his past. Of how he’ll have to try to start living again. 

Husk and Niffty notice the tears before Al does. Al feels Husk’s steady arms embrace him, and feels his rumbling purr reverberate through his body when he’s pulled to his chest. Niffty is standing on a chair, holding Al’s hand as the sobs wreck his body.

He doesn’t know how to pick his existence up again, but his friends will be there to help him remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas y'all!  
> maybe i'll add the two other prompts eventually.  
> this prompt event was fun, albeit very challenging to my self-discipline and creativity. It was definitely the right thing to get me writing again haha.  
> thank you all for reading and leaving comments, without that it wouldve been substantially harder for me to do <3 <3


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